We Shall Overcome
by SailorMouthJones
Summary: The Battle of Felucia was one of the most ferocious and bloody engagements of the Clone Wars. Countless sacrifices were made, and even more would follow. One lucky survivor was able to live and share his tale. CC-43/26-6597, better known as Deacon, would fight two wars, one in and one out.
1. Chapter 1: Boots On the Ground

**_Thanium Sector/Felucia System/Felucia Orbit/Savari LZ_**

**_Day 11/Month 3/19 BBY [Galactic Standard Calendar]_**

_Darkness._ After being herded into the main cabins of the LAATs at record speed, we were left in utter darkness. It didn't matter what unit that you were affiliated to. As long as you had your gear, you were shoved into a gunship. I found myself in the larty gunship, making my way towards the surface of Felucia.

"Hey Sarge," the trooper next to me whispered, "Did you hear?" I turned my head to face the only clone on the LAAT that was in my squad, CT-32/11-5435. I couldn't see him but I could hear him. Though, by now, we were all used to just calling him Drexl. He'd been around almost as long as I was.

"What? About the Separatist Fleet?" I asked. Of course it would be our luck that the Separatists would muster up a rather large fleet to try to reclaim the offensive, and that their entire counterattack across the galaxy would start right here. I guess I've always been this lucky. Oh, and when I said _rather large fleet_, I meant massive fleet that probably could've occupied a whole system if it wanted to.

"Yeah, I've never seen one that big." Drexl replied. "Do you think we can beat it?"

"With the Venators' new upgrades and the Acclamators' improved shielding and weapons systems, I'm sure we'll be able to decimate their fleet." I lied. The Venators and the Acclamator-IIs could dish out some serious damage, but even they could get overwhelmed when dealing with the shear overwhelming force of the Vulture Droids. They would be sent in swarms. And once they had our fighters away from the fleet, their bombers would go in and take out the shields of any poor ship in their way. In my experiences, the CIS fleets would tend to knock our ships out one by one, every gun from every ship firing at one target. "But that's not our problem now, is it?"

"No, sir, we get the fun part, fighting down there." Drexl gestured downward towards Felucia's surface. He was right. Sure, the pilots could go on and brag about their "exciting, adrenaline-pumping" dogfights in orbit, but I always am kind enough to remind them that I'd take a foxhole any day. Foxholes don't crash.

"Exactly, we let the flyboys do their job and we do ours." It was quiet for a few seconds as the larty shuttered. We were entering the atmosphere.

_Red._ No more were we encased in darkness, but a dingy red glowed over the hangar of the gunship. The red light warned us of our last few seconds before touching down. It pretty much meant, "Hey, check your gear."

The sounds of weapons being cocked and troopers checking their various pieces of equipment reverberated off the hull. I checked my DC-15a Blaster Rifle. Many troopers shifted towards the comparatively light DC-15s Blaster Carbine, but I was loyal to my 9.5 pound DC-15a. Then, I made sure all armor plates were strapped on right before checking my helmet. All my armor was good and it looked pretty damn badass, too. The entire 412th Legion was equipped with our tan, orange, and brown camouflaged armor, with our trademark glowing red visors. When the Confederates saw the red visor, they knew that they were in big trouble.

From here on, the hangar was silent. We may have been a little nervous but it certainly didn't show. There seemed to be a couple new guys in there that I knew had to be scared. Hell, I was. But, that wasn't going to stop me from doing my job. My determination to come back alive always took over when the adrenaline started pumping.

Then, I heard the anti-aircraft rounds exploding usually fired upon us during aerial landings. The larty lurched a bit but we continued onward, straight on through the Confederate defenses. But, then the larty shook as a rather loud explosion strained even the hearing amplifiers in my helmet.

"Hey, pilot! We hit?!" I shouted, not that he could even hear me.

"We're hit but not too bad!" replied the co-pilot in his traditional tone when he lies. "Everything's fine!"

"Bad is a matter of perspective, Pack Mule!" I countered. "I know how these things like to drop like rocks when they're hit!"

"Be thankful me and Cabbie know what we're doing, Deacon," Pack Mule chided, "Otherwise we would've gone splat about 50 meters back!"

"I know Cabbie knows what he's doing, Pack Mule," another clone jumped in, "But you're the one I don't trust." That's when I started thinking how weird it would be for anyone not Fett-pure listening to our conversations in the dark. It would sound like one crazy man arguing with himself but for us, we could tell each other's voices apart from the tiniest changes in pitch and tone.

The friendly banter was then cut off as Pack Mule put his game face on. "Thirty seconds! We're goin' in hot!" Another close explosion threw quite a few clones off their feet. "Not us, but we lost a bird!" Damn, not even on the ground and we've got KIAs. I patted Drexl on the shoulder and nodded to the clone on my other side. I gripped my rifle and set it to the burst fire rate.

The LAAT came to near abrupt halt as we began to descend. The blast doors protecting us were mere seconds from opening. Blaster fire was quite prominent from what I could hear. My hearing amplifiers were still a little hazy from before. Then, Cabbie's bird held in place and the doors hissed.

_Green._ The doors opened on both sides and with blasters in hand, the thirty or so of clones piled out of the larty. I charged forward but didn't get too far before the droids had started firing. The clone I had nodded to earlier was picked off near instantly by a heavy duty plasma turret. A couple others went down but the rest began to duck behind various things for cover. I leaped into cover behind the charred remnants of an AAT. Drexl as well as two more clones crouched right next to me. We all squatted behind our cover as numerous blaster shots flew over our heads.

"So what's the plan, sir?" Drexl asked, his rifle itching for something to shoot. I actually hadn't gotten to that part yet. Step one was always get out of the gunship and not die. _Check._

"Alright, well, we need to take out those turrets. Looks like they've been chewing up our brothers pretty bad all day." Too bad my plan for taking them out involved rockets, lots of them. "Anybody got any rockets?"

"You're in good luck sir," the clone taking cover by Drexl replied. He pointed towards our landing zone. Sure enough, there was a rocket launcher lying next to a dead trooper.

"Okay, you three cover me while I go grab the launcher." As they nodded, I put down my rifle and got into a position that resembled a predator ready to pounce. We waited until the turrets sounded like they were slowing down. Sure enough, their rate of fire slowed as they began to overheat. Confederate turrets tended to make a specific noise when they overheat, much like a hiss or a release of oxygen from a vacuum. A mere second or two later, I heard the hiss.

"Now!" And like that the three troopers popped out of cover and laid down some serious suppressing fire on the battle droids, super battle droids no less. I flew towards where the launcher laid, a distance which would be considered short if not under a ton of fire. I dropped to the ground to minimize the areas they could shoot me and grabbed the launcher. It was primed and loaded, so all I did was lock on. The rocket shot out with a massive cloud of smoke. It took a few seconds of waiting for an explosion but the wait was well worth it. The explosion had neutralized three turrets plus their dozen or so guardians. All were gone in an instant.

I dove for the cover as droids from another building began open fire on me. Drexl and the clone next to him gave me some covering fire.

"Only one rocket left. Anymore turrets?"

"Nah, just a couple stragglers," the trooper said, "Good job, Sergeant."

"That's nothing, just wait 'till he gets pissed off," Drexl told him.

"Hey, where's the other trooper?" I didn't see him die, so I presumed he was still alive.

"I'm in the tank, sir." It sounded like he was rewiring something.

"Private, that tank is fried. No one's driving it anywhere." I really hated to break the poor little shiny's heart, but that tank wasn't going nowhere.

Then, the AAT started and I felt like an idiot. He popped out of the tank. "I'm an engineer, sir. Fixing broken tanks is my specialty." But, before I could warn him to get back inside for cover, his head slouched forward and the distinct panging of a dead body could be heard as it hit the floor of the tank.

"Dammit." I whispered it to myself. _There goes another one._

_"_Sarge, let's take it." Drexl hopped onto the AAT and into the main hatchway in one swift motion. "I'll drive."

"After you," I gestured towards the trooper next to me. I looked at him quizzically, searching for a name.

"Tropic, sir, my friends call me Tropic." He gave me a quick salute as he climbed aboard.

"Well, Tropic, my friends call me Deacon. Or Sarge if you prefer." I climbed atop the AAT before entering the top hatch. "Drexl, drive." And we were off. Drexl piloted the tank while I worked the main gun and Tropic worked the secondary blasters, though it was hard because it was normally a job meant for two. I looked at the ammo count. 31 of the 55 shells for the chain-fed projectile launchers had been spent. I swiveled the turret to find some targets. With the remaining ammunition the tank had, we knocked out all of the droids' anti-air defenses as well as their communication equipment.

"Just give me a second, Sarge. Controls are a little sluggish." The tank lurched forward slightly before stopping a mere two meters from where we were before. Then, as another addition to my bad luck, the AAT seemed to shut down. The lights in the cabin flickered before going out. That's when I heard the sound of another tank.

"What's going on?" Tropic asked.

"Targeting's shot but we're still in business." Drexl started pressing all sorts of switches and gears. "You guys need to aim manually."

"Drexl," I said, dragging out his name, warning him of my frustration. I poked my head out and noticed, not one but, two tanks. "_Drive_."

Drexl was talking to himself as I engaged the auto-reload systems. Tropic was shooting at a couple B2s that came around the corner of a nearby building. I swiveled the turret towards the two advancing AATs. I poked my head out again to confirm that the cannon was properly aligned. Both tanks aimed at us, but one was distracted by a squad of clones giving us suppressing fire. The other tank, however, was not as deterred and fired a round. I fired my mine as I closed my eyes and braced for impact. _Game over…_

Only to hear a loud shriek of metal. The round was only a glancing blow. My shell, on the other hand, had hit directly into the AAT's lower hull, where all of its ammunition was held. Its entire payload had exploded and the incinerated the droid crew. The entire vehicle was engulfed in flame. The hatch popped open. One B-1 exited the tank. It was aflame, flailing around slightly before collapsing into a molten, glowing state. _If only they could feel pain._

I began swiveling the heavy cannon towards the second enemy tank, either blind to its friend's utter destruction or unwavering in its task of destroying the squad that was covering us. I popped my head out again to observe the cannon's alignment. As I was I fired the shot, I watched one of the troopers in the squad get hit by the AAT's antipersonnel blasters. Then, I saw that the shot had missed but I pushed the trigger for the launch tubes for the six projectile launchers. All six slammed into the bottom of the tank, knocking out its repulsorlifts before the rest of the tank exploded. The AAT blew up into a beautiful ball of flame, its heavy cannon flying up into the air.

"_Thanks, trooper_," the squad leader shouted into his comm, "_We owe you one."_

"No probl-"

"_Get down!"_ He yelled it so loud that I collapsed down into the seat, just as a plasma bolt from a sniper rifle hit the top hatch. "_All clear!"_

I popped out yet again to thank him. How could I have forgotten the Assassin Droid that killed one of my troopers barely a few moments ago? "Well, I guess we're even. Thanks, sergeant."

"_You're welcome!" _Again with the ear-piercing screech from the comm. "_I'd get out of here! I heard some boys from Zabrak Company need some support over by Victor LZ!"_

"We're on it. Good luck out there."

"_You, too!" _The sergeant tended to his wounded as we drove on our way to the other landing zone. As we drove through the base, various close quarters engagements between clones and droids were taking place. Drexl, Tropic and I rose up quite the storm as we miraculously surged past the Confederacy's faltering lines. No droid reinforcements had neared the base. It was surprising, but who was I to complain.

"Adjusting elevation! Firing!" I fired the cannon at a group of B2s firing down on two injured clones. The shot missed but hit directly below the droids. The ensuing explosion melted the supports to the platform and the whole thing came crashing down. _Not bad._

"You ever think about being a tanker, Sarge?" Tropic asked me, astonished at my ability to cause such destruction.

"And leave me? No. Never."

"I was a tanker for a bit. It's just not my thing."

"And when was this?!" Drexl's voice was one of total confusion. I took off the helmet and gave him THE look. His confusion turned towards one of understanding after the realization hit him. "Oh yeah, I remember. Never mind."

Tropic just blew it off with a shrug. Good thing. "Well, you're pretty good, Sarge. I'd get in a tank with you any day."

We pushed onward, knocking out tanks and enemy positions as we went. One sneaky little droid managed to deliver a nice little blow that took out Tropic's secondary blasters. The droid was quickly dispatched by the hands of my heavy cannon.

The base's Confederate presence was slowly dwindling. We began to encircle various buildings considered Separatist strongholds. One by one, we supported the other troopers as they cleared them out.

"Firing my last round!" I shouted over the various machine parts that were making noises due their strain. We had worked this tank to the breaking point, and then pushed it beyond. We were out of ammo and the smell of the trooper's burnt skin was making the tank that much more cramped. I wanted out but not until we finished the last remnants of Confederates. For our first day of the Outer Rim Sieges, we seemed to be winning. Then again, we could wake up tomorrow to find the fleet in orbit had been blown away.

I watched the final round of the projectile launcher strike the last droid holdout directly on the hatchway. Let's just say that the when the smoke cleared, there were no more doors. Better yet, there was no more holdout. It turns out that it was a weapon cache, with many, many things that could explode. So, when the smoke cleared, there was just nothing left. The Separatists were wiped out and the base had been secured.

Then, we began the slow process of cleaning up and organizing the separated units of the 412th. I wandered through the crowd of our troops with Tropic and Drexl. Tropic was in the same battalion as us, except he was in Ripper Company. We began listening to officers shouting out, identifying where various units were to go. As the three of continued to search, the mob of disorganized units finally began to spread out, organizing at the regimental level at least.

"856th! Where's the 856th?!"

"73rd over here!" At least that one was the same regiment, so we headed that way.

"548th?!"

"115th! 115th!"

"167th! We're over here!" I wanted to know whose idea it was to create this whole mess. The admiral that wanted to get us on the surface so quickly was probably the culprit. He could use a reprimand. I'd give him one of mine. I've got plenty to spare.

"626th, over here!" The major kept repeating, hoping to get on the move as soon as possible. We made our way over towards our battalion. The major kept on yelling. "626th, we're mobilizing! Get to the landing pads!"

That one confused quite a few clones. Leaving already? But, we just got here? What the hell?

"Why are we leaving so soon, sir?" a private, a shiny, asked.

"Not my orders, soldier. The whole regiment's being picked up. Command needs us at a whole new FOB. The other regiments are moving out, too. 501st needed a landing zone."

Of the 3,000 troops in the initial wave, we had lost 456 lives, 778 casualties in total. 778 of my brothers. It was a steep price just to get our feet on the ground, but that's just how war goes. Some were lucky, others weren't. I'd lost many clones under my command.

Far too many.

For me, the worst thing is that moment when they look up at you and look for some sort of answer, some explanation. Every time, I grip their arm and tell them that they're fine. Then, the medic takes me aside and says that it's not looking good. That we were too late. I go straight back to the trooper and tell him that he's going to be up and able within a couple of weeks. I tell him that he's fought bravely and that the Republic thanks him. I assure him that the Senate and the higher-ups appreciate his sacrifice in the face of danger. But, any trooper knows that we're just cannon fodder for the Republic. Then, he's gone and I'm left to wonder:

Was what I said to assure him or myself?


	2. Chapter 2: Meetin' the Team

_**Thanium Sector/Felucia System/Felucia Surface/Outpost Omicron**_

_**Day 11/Month 3/19 BBY [Galactic Standard Calendar]**_

The gunship descended and the slide doors opened, revealing to us our new base of operations. Saying that it was massive was an understatement. Outpost Omicron could easily hold the entire 412th Legion in its barracks, roughly ten thousand troops, and then some. Gunships and various starfighters buzzed around like little bugs. This fortress was a small city. Its buildings were extremely large, as was its defensive walls. To think that this place wasn't even on the map just a few weeks ago astounded me.

I leapt off the deckplate of the larty as it came to a stop above the landing pad, followed by the other thirty or so clones with me. We were met by a couple tech teams instructing the pilot where to go for repairs. I walked off to find my unit. I hadn't seen any of my squad members besides Drexl since leaving the venator.

"Drexl, go try to find the platoon," I ordered. He complied, jogging off into a crowd of engineers and repair teams. "And Tropic, you come with me."

Tropic, having been by my side throughout the earlier fighting, deserved to be brought back to his own unit as well. I found a nearby holopad and it gave me a layout of the base. After discovering what I was looking for, we headed to the 412th Legion HQ. I had a meeting with an old friend…

"Where are we going, sir?" Tropic asked.

"Crazy," I quipped as I continued onward, ushering him to follow me. It took a few moments and dodging of various vehicles but we reached the 412th Legion's Mobile Command Center. I nodded towards the guard stationed outside before taking off my helmet.

"The Commander in there?" I asked.

"Yes, sir. Talking with our new Jedi Commander," the guard said, "And guess what?"

"What?"

"The jedi brought us some new gear and a couple padawans, too."

"Well, that's some good news. Can we go in?" I pointed to myself and Tropic.

"Sure thing." He moved out of our way and pressed a button on a console. The door slid upwards. "Just take the elevator up to the fourth floor."

"Thanks," Tropic said. We entered the command center and stepped into the elevator, which brought us up to the fourth floor of the building. As the doors opened, we entered the Command CIC. The place was buzzing with various officers of the 412th HQ, many sitting at consoles and holopads, instructing units where to go and prepping the starfighters for their inevitable task of securing air superiority.

In the center of the room, there was a giant holotable that displayed the outpost and various FOBs in the surrounding vicinity. Leaning onto the side of the table was CC-3243, Commander Flint, who was not wearing his armor. He was wearing an officer uniform. He glared firmly at what he was seeing on the holotable, scar along his forehead accenting his brows even more than usual. Next to him was a robbed figure, a lightsaber attached to his belt. _Jedi._ They obviously had been discussing something bad, judging by Flint's obvious look of frustration.

"Master Jedi, you clearly understand how spread out we are at this point already," Flint said, "If we were to spread out even further, you and I both know that we stand a very good chance of being overrun." He put a finger on the holotable, zooming in to a specific area a couple clicks away from Outpost Omicron. By the large amount of red which identified CIS forces, I could tell things were going rough for whoever was there. "They're asking us to take on a job for a whole battalion with a company!" He slammed his hands on the table, then, threw them in the air to express his growing frustration and astonishment for Command's orders.

The jedi walked closer, removing his hood. He was a human, steely blue eyes and a firm chin. He had short dirty blonde hair and strongly accented eyebrows. His face was one of frustration as well, and that was saying something with him being a jedi.

"I understand your sympathies, Commander, but we both know that it needs to be done. Perhaps, we should send one of the padawans to accompany your clones."

"And you could vouch for a padawan willing to lead a suicide mission like this? We both know that's exactly what this is." Commander Flint was one always looking for ways to minimalize casualties, and this whole situation obviously meant more troopers dead. It was a matter of how many.

"My own pupil would willingly volunteer for such a mission. Hell, I'd lead them myself if I could. But, I'm stuck here, just like you." I was beginning to like this jedi. "But first, you should probably tend to your men, Commander." He turned towards Tropic and I, giving us a nod. The jedi and their ability to sense things still weirded me out.

Flint looked towards us and smirked as soon as he knew it was me.

"Commander Flint, sir." I saluted and so did Tropic. Flint just waved it off and gave us a small little mediocre salute.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. What do you need, Deacon? Actually, come over here. Both of you should meet the new Jedi Commander of the 412th." We walked over to the two, me and the jedi eyeing each other up. "Deacon, this is Jedi Master Jen Dukhein."

"It's an honor, Sergeant Deacon, the Commander's told me a story or two." He held out his hand which I took. "The stunts you pulled back on Bilcom and Hondar were both pretty daring, but I was impressed. Despite what they accused you of, you've got quite a few fans back there. Reprimands be damned, you're one fine soldier."

"Thank you, Master Jedi. I was only looking out for my men. There's no need to glorify. I'm sure you've got a couple war stories yourself." The Bilcom and Hondar Campaigns, both considered examples of unnecessary casualties in inevitable defeats. I did my best to save some men, and Command didn't take it too well. A reprimand or two later, I found myself in a very, very shitty situation, light years away from my men and learning new names to the same faces.

"Touchy subject?" Master Dukhein asked.

"Yeah, you could say that."

"It's understandable. And you, soldier?" The jedi put his hand out to Tropic.

"Tropic, Sir. I've been followin' the Sarge since touching down." Jen Dukhein gave him a nod.

"And he's also the reason we're here, Flint." The Commander and Master Dukhein both looked at me. "Tropic here needs to find his unit."

Flint went back to the holotable and started sifting through the various logs on unit locations. "What unit are you from, Tropic?"

"Um… 626th Battalion, Ripper Company, sir."

"What platoon?" Flint had narrowed the search to the four platoons within Ripper Company.

"Third Platoon, sir." Commander Flint fiddled with the holotable for a second, obviously confused as to the results he was getting. It took him a moment of scanning the image before he finally sighed.

"I don't know how to tell you this, Private, but…" I knew this wouldn't be good news. "I'm sorry, but Third Platoons been wiped out." _Not good at all._

"What?! That can't be true," Tropic exclaimed. Tropic was firmly denying the truth that was in front of him. "There's no way! They were all fine yesterday. I was with them less than twenty-four hours ago." Tropic began to grow hysterical in the light of the grave news of his brothers' deaths.

"Private, half your platoon came down on a larty that had been shot down. No survivors. The rest had been KIA in the ensuing fighting. I'm sorry, Tropic, they're gone." The Commander was doing his best to break the news to the clone but when you lose your whole platoon and don't know it. That is something that takes a bit sink in.

"There's no way," Tropic whispered, his voice as faint as his spirit at the moment. The jedi master and I both gave him our sincerest apologies.

"Is there any way he could be transferred to my platoon, Sir? My squad even?" I asked. Tropic was a good soldier and he needed someone now more than ever.

"Is that a request or a statement?" The Commander knew that I was infamous for doing things and asking permission later.

"Is that a yes or no?" I replied. The Commander fiddled with the holotable again.

"It's done."

"And where are my men?"

"Barracks C, go get some rest and some food. Trust me, this is the only real R and R you're gonna get for a while."

I saluted. "Yes, sir. Commander. Master Jedi." Master Dukhein nodded with arms folded, and as we left they went back to their discussion. Before I left, I could've swore I heard the jedi say something along the lines of 'They should give a company'. But, that could just be my ego playing tricks on me.

As Tropic and I walked towards Barracks C, I found my new squad member silent. It was understandable given the circumstances. He learned of the deaths of the only clones he knew on a personal level. Despite what anyone says, yes, we have personalities. And yes, we have feelings.

"Tropic, you okay? Wanna talk?"

He was silent, shook his head. I left it at that.

That is, until he came to me.

He stopped and turned to me. "They were there before we left the venator, now they're gone. I just don't get it."

"It's just how war goes." My attempts to consul him were failing much like Flint's futile attempt before.

"My whole platoon, my brothers, is gone. And nothing will bring them back." He was clearly distraught and I just couldn't find the words to make it alright. Not the first time I've to do this either. "How do you deal with it, sir?" He looked to me for guidance.

"After a while, you don't feel the pain, just numbness. The worst part is when you try to forget, and you can't, because every time you look in the mirror, you see their faces. It's like they're all seared into my brain. But, that's when I realized that I would dishonor them if I tried to forget. If I forgot what they fought and died for, then what would be the point?" My little speech seemed to slightly perk Tropic up. Not a lot, but it was progress.

We arrived at Barracks C, which held the whole of Howler Company, the pride and joy of the 626th Assault Battalion. It was a large, one-story building complete with a mess hall, standard bedding, and bathrooms. It was heaven. As we walked inside, I was greeted by Drexl, who smirked and pointed towards one of the rooms.

I took him aside. "Tropic lost his whole platoon. He's on the squad now. Go show him around." Drexl was saddened by the news but he gave his best to cheer Tropic up and welcome him to the squad. I, on the other hand was to uphold order in my squad.

I entered Second Platoon's barracks to find everybody just sitting around, catching some sleep or finding something to do to pass the time. As I walked in, I was greeted by men as any respected sergeant would. The proper salutes as per Republic military code and then by the more personal smiles and pats on the back.

"Good to see you in one piece, sir," Buzzard said, grin on his face as he handed me his vibroblade. "She took a clanker's arm clean off." Buzzard was a scavenger for the squad of sorts. Ever since he first found the knife, he had become obsessed with them. Morning, noon, and night was spent perfecting his use of its blade.

Tucker and Nitro were in a heated board game, the two being mocked by their fire team leader Jolly.

Jolly, with his bald head and cheery attitude, looked up at me and shook his head. "I don't know how we trust them with heavy weapons, Deacon."

"Just make sure they don't kill each other first." He laughed and went back to enjoying the show. I looked at the bunks to my left to find Garbo and Duster, my two man sniper team passed out. The two were pod brothers and when one was doing something so was the other. My final squadmate would be Retro. I found the corporal cleaning his own DC-15x sniper rifle. The man had not only perfected sniping but his two protégés were equal in his talents.

"You seen the lieutenant, Retro?"

He shook his head. "Haven't seen him at all. Not since hitting the drop zone."

"Great," I mumbled, "Well, thanks anyway."

"Yep. Hey, I heard we got a new guy. This true?"

"Yeah, Drexl's showing him around. Why?"

"I want to see if he can shoot." Retro held the sniper scope to his eye. "Four lethal snipers in one squad, Sarge? Imagine the possibilities."

"You'll get your chance to talk to him. Everybody eat?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"I'm squad leader. I've gotta make sure you all eat and are changed in your armor when the droids come knocking on the door."

"Not like the last time, huh Sarge?"

"Never again," I said, laughing as I shook my head.

"It was better than the time they had us march up that one mountain, only to hear the coordinates were messed up."

"Or when they had us practice hand-to-hand on those droids with the staffs that stunned when they hit. I broke my hand on that thing." That shit hurt, despite what anyone ever said. Every time I told my tale of woe, my squad would tell me something along the lines of 'suck it up.'

"Oh boo hoo, I took one of those staffs to the face."

"Yeah, well I had to drag your unconscious ass to the medbay. And the whole time, they had somebody beating me with the staff."

"You're such a baby sometimes, Sarge."

"Shut up, Retro."

"Yes, sir." He sat down and went back to his cleaning. That's when I heard the sound of someone in the doorway. It was Howler Company's captain, Jayce.

"Sir." I saluted, showing proper respect for my superior officer, something my squad seemed to lack these days.

"At ease, Deacon. I want to speak you..." Jayce said as peered into the room, "in private."

I followed him into the corner of the hallway. "What is it, Jayce?"

"Your lieutenant's dead, Deacon. Killed back in the landing."

I tell you what. I didn't really feel anything for the lieutenant. He was a replacement for Jayce, whom was promoted. Under normal circumstances, I would've been given the position, but those reprimands have quite the effect.

"What does it have to do with me?"

"What do you think?" I knew where this was going. I'd had enough.

"No. I won't."

"I need someone and everyone thinks it should be you. You're a born leader, Deacon. Someone just needs to smack you around until you understand that."

"Not again. The last time I ran a platoon, I was the only survivor. I won't get anyone killed."

"Deacon, I need you on this. Somebody needs to step up to the plate and your fellow squad leaders plus 412th Command think it would be the best for everyone." I had enough. He won.

"You know, you can be too motivational sometimes."

"And you can too stubborn sometimes, Deacon. Now go get some food and some rest. We're moving out tomorrow." Jayce was walking off towards another room for one of the other platoons.

"Where we going, Sir?"

"No idea yet. But, I hear it's big."

"You're not lying to me, are you Jayce?"

"Nope." And then he was gone.

That night, I had very vivid dream. I was back on a planet I had long since tried to forget. Dry, arid planet. Filled with nothing but big ugly bugs. I was back on Geonosis. I was a corporal again, too. I had my old phase I armor on. This was before the 412th had made a name for itself. Before I met Drexl or anyone else in the squad. Before we even had names like Drexl or Deacon, back when we were numbers. Before Felucia and before I had any real experience under my belt. I was tasked with pushing towards a Geonosian spire being used for spotting for artillery. My whole battalion was assigned to charge the spire and secure it.

If it only it had been that easy.

It had been FUBAR from the start. The half a dozen AT-TEs tasked with fire support had lagged behind for repairs. My company had been tasked with staying behind as protection. We were in the middle of a canyon. On both sides, there was nothing but cliffs. Nothing but a perfect spot for an ambush.

We waited and waited. Nothing happened. The engineers were working on repairs and our troopers stood watch. I had a very bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.

That's when we heard something. Something like a giant object stomping on the ground or thunder from an approaching storm. It was faint at first but it grew louder and louder.

That's when we saw them.

A massive formation of battle droids stretching across the whole canyon. They were marching in front of the convoy, slowly pushing closer and closer. And that's when the Geonosians showed up.

From the top of the cliffs they flew down, guns blazing. Their blasters struck a few clones, but we retaliated the best we could. We smirked behind our visors as the ugly ass bugs dropped out of the sky. We fired continuously at them. The AT-TEs were firing up, too. But, as the droids approached, we began to retreat. Slowly but surely, we were losing ground and men. The hordes of flying bugs and droids had a good chance of overrunning us completely.

I dropped another super battle droid before I watched my squad leader drop to the dirt. He wasn't about to get up anytime soon. That's when our line of defense began to falter and a few clones began to retreat.

"Who's in charge?" I cried out. The utter panic and confusion left us with no proper leadership. Among the casualties were my squad leader as well as two lieutenants and countless other bodies strewn in the ugly brown dirt. Everything about Geonosis was ugly. The dirt, the species, the landscape. Everything. And none of us certainly wanted to die in this terrible place.

"Who's in charge?" I shouted again.

A retreating clone tapped me on the shoulder as he ran away. "You are buddy." Granted, that's not what I wanted to hear, but it gave me some courage. I stood my ground. No retreat, no more steps back. I fired into the droids, easily dropping quite a few. My adrenaline rush was giving me even better accuracy than normal. Ego aside, I managed take down a few droids and my stance against the retreat had gotten a few clones attention. I was joined by a few troopers at first but the number increased. I had rallied the entire company. No more retreat, now we push them back.

"Behind cover!" someone shouted as they pointed to one of the AT-TEs that had been destroyed by a rocket. The other five AT-TEs began firing into the droids, while we finished off the Geonosians, who had retreated once our blasters started to really drain their numbers. The large cannons of the AT-TEs had stemmed the flow off the droids.

"We need a radio to call in air support!" Unfortunately, the only one that stood a chance of working was the one on a deceased lieutenant. He happened to be somewhere in the mob of droids.

"Clear the way!" I shouted as we all moved out of cover. Marksmen from the AT-TE provided support as the regular riflemen laid down a ton of suppressive fire. "Follow me!" I had seen the lieutenant go down, I knew where he was. About thirty or so of us created an arrow-like formation as we pushed into the droids' line. We eventually created a perimeter. We were totally surrounded by the droids.

Once we reached the lieutenant's body, I grabbed the radio. It took me a moment to fix the radio but I got it working and radioed in the support. It was pretty much on our position. Worse news yet was that we had lost about a third of our perimeter. Twenty or so clones were left when the LAATs streaked over, launching their payloads of missiles on the droids. Only one made it back alive.

They found me alive, but a little burnt. Not too bad. Once I woke, I could see the charred remains of everyone else. I had gotten them all killed.

As they patched me up with bacta patches, the clone that told me I was in charge came over and congratulated me. I was appalled.

"They're dead, all of them."

"But, think of the rest you saved. You did good out there."

"And who are you to say that?"

"Captain CC-3243." He would later be known as Flint, and lead the entirety of the 412th. And I still hold the fact that he retreated and I held line over his head every chance I get.


	3. Chapter 3: On the Move

_Author's Note: To everyone reading this, thanks for taking the time to read this story. I really am trying to write a dark war story. Sorry if the first few chapters seem mediocre. I'm trying. This is my first story, so I appreciate any kind of constructive criticism anyone has. Feel free to favorite or review. _

_**Thanium Sector/Felucia System/Felucia Surface/Outpost Omicron**_

_**Day 12/Month 3/19 BBY [Galactic Standard Calendar]**_

I was woken up extremely early the next morning by a large amount of ice water, courtesy of either Buzzard or Tucker. Retro, who had been on duty at the time, was unfortunately out of the room, and couldn't catch the culprit. So, as a fitting punishment, I decided that I would make the entire squad run. A lot.

"I told you, Sarge. I'm sorry, it was a joke," Buzzard choked out between breaths, "I…didn't…mean…to…piss… you off…like…this."

"Sorry, Buzz. Can't hear you. Maybe your helmet comm needs to be rewired. We'll go get it checked out when you're done running." Once I proposed running, the squad was quick to rat out Buzzard, who thought waking the Sarge up with ice water was a good idea. I made them run anyway. I'm an asshole, I know. But, now Buzzard was the only one running. In full gear. Eco-stabilizer systems off. In the heat. Uphill. Both ways. And no breakfast. Actually, next time, I'll make him eat breakfast so he can throw it up. "Another lap." Buzz croaked out a moan but began the lap anyways.

"Sarge, Captain Jayce is coming over," one of my men said. I turned around. MY squad saluted in unison.

"Sergeant."

"Sir."

"Your men up for a good fight?" Jayce asked.

"As ready as they'll ever be." My squad, or squads was more appropriate, were all ready to go. I'd had them all watching Buzz run laps for nearly an hour.

"Good. The Commander and the jedi commander will be debriefing us at 1100 hours. You'll like this one."

"We have a challenge for once?"

"Nothing's a challenge for a clone in the 412th." Damn straight, sir.

"Any hints?"

"Sarge, you know we don't like spoilers," my squad said almost in perfect unison. It was actually pretty scary.

"Nope. Just remember, 1100 hours. Make sure everyone is fit for duty." Jayce pointed towards Buzz as he slowed down slightly. Then, Jayce turned and began to leave. "Oh, and Sergeant?"

"Yeah?"

Jayce gave me the devious of smirks. "The ice water was MY idea." Then, he left.

The time between then and debriefing went by faster than normal. The few hours of downtime I spent catching some sleep and getting some food. I cleaned my gear, and before I knew it, my new platoon was sitting behind me, waiting to hear where they would send us. The holotable showed us a small cave structure being held by a battalion of clones from another unit.

"Howler Company has been ordered to hold the line here," Jayce shouted, pointing to the caves. His voice was firm and commanding. When he said that we were ordered to hold the line, he really meant we _will_ hold the line.

The base that we would reinforce had been the one that Flint and Master Dukhein had been discussing the day before. They had both come to greet us before we left. Apparently, things there were getting worse and the troopers there stood a great chance of being encircled.

Flint, still without his combat gear, swallowed the saliva in his throat. "Now, I know that the Republic asks a lot of all of you. But, this is our job. We are clones. The time for fun and games is over. Let's get this done."

A trooper from Fourth Platoon, a shiny, raised his hand. "Sir, you're asking us to replace a battalion with a company? That's a quarter of their strength."

"No, private, I'm asking you to _reinforce_ a battalion with a company." The private shut up after that. "Now, you'll be brought in along this trail by AT-OT. Once at the outpost, you'll be given orders by whoever's in command."

Then, Master Dukhein chimed in. "My padawan shall escort you there. Once there, it is assumed that he will be in command."

"So, what's the terrain like from here to the outpost?" I asked.

"Like it is all across the planet," Flint replied, "It's pretty treacherous if you're on foot. Pretty hilly, lots of algae and fungus."

Drexl leaned forward in his chair behind me. "Don't forget the countless amounts of plants and animals that would like to eat us." The Commander hadn't heard him whispering but the couple of chuckles he got were a little more obvious.

"The AT-OTs will take you to this point here," Flint said, pointing to an area of the map about a five clicks away from the outpost. "The rest of the way, you'll have to march on foot. Not quite great news to hear. "Of course, we've gotten you some extra firepower in case the clankers decide to ambush you." The holotable lit up a little brighter, showing us what appeared to be AT-RTs. That I liked to hear.

Master Dukhein spoke up again. "We need to reinforce the position as quick as possible. If we don't get you unit there soon, then I am afraid every trooper in that base will be lost."

"The AT-OTs are just outside. Captain, if you will." Flint gestured towards Jayce, who stood up and had us march out in file.

As we left, I heard Master Dukhein say, "May the force be with us all."

Everyone adorned in our phase II armor; we stood in the back of the open transport. The column of ten or so AT-OTs had made significant progress in reaching the destination. It would be a while before we reached the base, but we were making serious progress nonetheless. At our pace of about 55 km/h, we'd need at least five hours until we reached the checkpoint where our drop-off was.

"I heard that they might be trapped already," Tucker said, "There's reports of clankers all over the place."

"Well, we'll just have plenty of scrap when this is all over," Jolly replied. His way with words was always amusing.

I activated my helmets HUD and reloaded my weapon. Before we left, I had gotten my hands on crates of power packs. We had enough ammo to last us quite a while. I also had Drexl and Buzzard go scavenge for some thermal detonators. We had filled the transports to the brim as much ammo and supplies we could carry.

"When we get there, we'll show them how to win a war." Nitro' cockiness was borderline inspiring and him just being an asshole.

"Everybody shut up for now." The comm went silent for quite a while. The only noise was the sound of the AT-OTs as their massive, bulky legs lurched forwards. Any wildlife in the area must've been scared away, which is weird since we weren't the biggest predator around.

"Sarge?"

"What is it, Buzzard?"

"My suit's eco-stabilizer system isn't working. It's really hot in here."

"And you choose now of all times to ask?"

"Can you help?" Obviously, not all of us Fett-pure got all of Jango's good traits. And Buzzard wasn't taking the hint to shut up and stop complaining. Clones weren't supposed to complain. We do our job. That's it. But, being the nice platoon leader I am, I decided to help my fellow trooper.

"Honestly Buzzard, if you ask me to do anything ever again, I swear, I will-"

"GET DOWN!" someone shouted.

Boom! The ground shook and the transport stopped. I fell forward, as did everyone else around me. As I stood up, the AT-OT in front of me was a smoldering carcass of twisted metal. I few charred corpses had been thrown from the transports cargo hold and they were lying in crumpled heaps on the ground.

"What the hell was that?!" I shouted into the comm. But before I could get my answer, blaster fire had erupted and was strafing along the tops of the surviving transports. The blaster bolts skimmed the side of the transport. My fellow clones and I ducked and took cover. A few clones were hit by the blaster bolts. One of them had a hole going straight through the helmet and out the back, his red visor cracked viciously.

"Deacon!" Jayce was screaming into the comm so loud that it actually hurt my ear drums. "Status report!"

I did a quick head count of 1st squad and 2nd, both of which were in my transport. "Two KIA for 2nd squad! 3rd Squad, status?!"

"Sarge is hit, sir!" a clone roared into the comm link, "No one else is hit!"

"What about 4th squad, trooper?!" At this point, the clone was hysterical and was swearing up a storm. From what I could hear over the gunfire and explosions, they were doing their best to shoot back at our ambushers. The AT-OTs' laser cannons were finally engaging the tree line where the enemy was situated.

"Uh…3 KIA! 1 wounded!" More gunfire was heard over the comm.

"Jolly, Tucker, Nitro! Get the heavy weapons up! We'll cover you!" I ordered.

"On it," Jolly replied while loading his Z-6 rotary blaster for the carnage that would ensue. Tucker and Nitro squatted beside him, doing the same for theirs.

I grabbed a crate filled with the standard-issue Class-A thermal detonators. I passed them out to the troopers around me. The blaster fire continued to shoot over our crouched heads, missing by inches.

"On my order, throw the TADs towards the tree line." I primed two of the thermal detonators myself while the others did the same. "One…two…three!"

"Addin' TADs!" screamed Buzzard, his voice full of enthusiasm.

I lobbed a detonator, soon followed by the second, towards the attackers. The small beeping noise could be heard before the final explosion decimated whatever was shooting at our transports. Once both had detonated, I grabbed my trusty DC-15A and popped out of cover delivering some fully automatic fire on the enemy.

"Super Battle Droids!" Captain Jayce shouted from one of the transports up ahead. My computer enhanced scope compensated for the conditions that hindered my eyesight. I could see through the smoke and glitter-like environment. The outlines of B-2 Battle Droids could be seen.

I fired into the column of droids, slowing a few down with grazing shots but no confirmed kills. By now, 1st and 2nd squads were firing downrange into the droids as well. Some blaster fire also managed to torch a couple plants. The fauna was starting to catch ablaze.

"We've got to get out of here!" I yelled into the comm.

"_Agreed, let's get out of here,"_ said one of the other platoon leaders.

"_All units, we're on the move!"_ The voice of the lead transport's driver was very frantic. He might not have been the one shooting, but his life was on the line just like ours.

"Missile!" Tropic exclaimed. Sure enough, a rocket shot out of the smoke and slammed right into the driver's canopy of our AT-OT. It shook violently, throwing everyone to the ground of the open-bed.

Not wanting to stick around, I let down the open-bed ramp. "Everybody out! Let's go!" I waved my arms as, one by one, my men disembarked from the walker. After all my men were off, I followed right behind them. By the time we were all off, the AT-OT was on the brink of destruction. The driver was certainly gone but its laser cannons continued to fire at the B-2s. These cannons managed to provide enough suppressive fire that 1st and 2nd squad managed to get to cover, only two casualties from the initial ambush. As I duck behind the cover of another walker, the AT-OT exploded in a giant ball of orange flame. At least it went out guns blazing.

"Sarge, any ideas?" asked Drexl.

"Yeah. Any crazy schemes?" Duster added, his sniper rifle firing at twice the pace a regular clone would.

"Well, to be honest, I've got nothing."

"I love it when he's got good news," replied Retro. Retro was directing Duster and Garbo, who were both keeping score of each other's headshot count.

I glanced over to 2nd Squad. Sergeant Lynch was doing his best to keep his seven remaining troopers calm. Most were huddle behind the walker's thick legs, but they were doing their best given the situation they were in. That's when I noticed that two of his troopers had gotten a hold of mortars.

I dodged the blaster fire to make it over to Lynch. He greeted me the usual way.

"Good to see you stepping up to the plate, Deacon. You got a way out of this mess?"

"Well, I was hop-," I was disrupted by a missile that narrowly missed the AT-OT we were using as cover. "Well, I was hoping I could borrow your mortar team there."

"Hopper! Short Fuse! Get over here!" The two troopers were extremely agile, even when carrying the heavy mortar setup over their shoulders. "Deacon here needs a little mortar strike on the clankers."

"Yes, sir!" they shouted in unison. They set up the mortar in record time, I was quite impressed.

"1st Squad! Suppressive fire!" My squad obeyed my command, laying down a serious barrage of blaster fire. I, myself, was popping and ducking behind cover constantly. Many of the clones were doing the same. All the while, the rest of the company must've heard our plan. They were emptying their blasters into the tree line. The droids were losing their cover as well as their element of surprise.

And just as quickly the ambush started, reinforcements arrived. The thinning lines of B-2s were quickly and precisely replenished.

"This can't be good," said Tucker.

"Always the pessimist, aren't you?" Nitro quipped.

"Both of you! Shut up!" I commanded.

The mortars and the massive amount of small arms fire were keeping the droids at bay, but we couldn't hold out forever.

That's when he came into the picture.

A small, robed figure leapt into the air from one of the walkers, a green blade in hand. _Jedi._ The droids noticed this new attacker and had begun shooting upwards at this new threat. This took off some heat from us and I wasn't about to complain. Blaster fire erupted into the sky, and he deflected it all away…

As the jedi landed, I thought for sure that he would be killed. He landed in the center of the Confederate lines. He was surrounded and alone. We couldn't see him or what was happening. All we heard was blaster fire and the sound of his glowing blade. That much, we could see.

For a few moments, the whole column heard the noise behind the smoke and flora, only to ponder what was truly happening. The blaster fire continued for a time but it was slowly dissipating. Pretty soon, one blaster was heard before a swift slicing noise. Then, only the lightsaber could be heard. And then all was silent.

He walked out from behind the flora that blocked our view. What I saw astounded me. He was a boy! A small, little child. He was a teen boy, black hair, green eyes. And he had singlehandedly destroyed those droids. All of them. Singlehanded.

And I was pissed.

"The coast is clear. We ca-," the boy stated, but I wanted no part of it.

"I've got one question. Why the hell didn't you do that a little earlier?!"

"Sorry for saving your life, clone." The boy's arrogance was even more astounding than his earlier feat.

"I've got men dead, and you could've saved them." At this point, I was fuming and everyone was listening to our disagreement.

"Pardon me, but I believe I was busy helping the wounded up ahead. Maybe you should think before assuming an incorrect answer. Perhaps the Captain would think otherwise." _What a snob._

"My clones are dead and you could've saved them," I hissed, "Previous jedi commanders would have acted immediately. You sat back and waited."

"Don't expect me to hold your hand, clone. You are a perfectly capable, full grown adult."

"I'm younger than you are!" Given my accelerated growth, I was maybe twelve or thirteen at the time. That had to be at least two years younger than this jedi.

"You're supposed to be a capable leader, Sergeant. Perhaps, the Captain was mistaken with you. Or perhaps his belief in your men."

Before the argument could get any worse, Jayce had come over and split us up.

"That's enough, both of you!" I took off my helmet and gave the jedi the dirtiest of looks. To insult me was one thing, but to insult my men? He was on my shit list. Grievous. Dooku. This jedi. Not a long list, so an addition was a big deal.

"The matter is settled, Captain," replied the jedi, "There won't be a problem again." He walked to the lead walker and climbed back in. Jayce glared at me with disapproval.

"You've got a lot of nerve."

"You're putting the blame on me, not the jedi?"

"The jedi are our friends, lieutenant."

"Most jedi aren't arrogant, little…Wait, did you say 'lieutenant?'"

"Yeah, consider your ass promoted, now don't ruin this opportunity, lieutenant. I won't hesitate to demote you and send you for supply monitor duty behind the line." Jayce handed me the red lieutenant kama and pauldron, tradition of the 412th for any officer. Variations were given for each rank, but to have one was an honor for any clone.

"I won't, Sir. Thank you, sir." I saluted, which Jayce returned.

"Good." And he walked away.

"Nice job, Sarge… I mean Lieutenant." Drexl saluted me, as did the others of Second Platoon. In front of me, there stood 1st, 2nd, 3rd, and 4th Squads. Five dead, both of my wounded stood bandaged but alive. Of the forty-one of Second Platoon, thirty-six were alive and kicking. Second Platoon was gunning for a fight. For the fallen.

_"Howler Company!"_ shouted Jayce over the comm, _"We're on the move!"_

Together, Second Platoon marched beside the AT-OTs. For hours, we marched across the supply line to the outpost. For hours, it was silent. It was a kind of dead silence, it was almost surreal. Except for the man-eating plants and creatures, plus the droids that could potentially ambush us a second time.

It took until mid-afternoon before we ran into more CIS troops. We had stumbled onto a small Separatist supply depot. It was manned by a few dozen B-1s and slightly more B-2s. They had a couple laser turrets up, one in each corner of the depot's perimeter. It was situated across a small river and it was slightly uphill for us. From what the scouts said, they also had three mortars.

This depot was in our direct path. The AT-OTs were meant to cross the river here, it was knee-deep for us. Jayce had explained that there wasn't another possible crossing point for a couple clicks. So, we decided that we'd go through, not around.

The plan was simple; AT-OTs fire laser cannons on enemy positions. Mortar teams stay behind, snipers do, too. First Platoon would attack the southwest perimeter, Third Platoon would take the southeast, and Second Platoon (us) would charge up the middle in hopes of breaking their line. Fourth Platoon, having taken the heaviest casualties from the ambush, would sit in back as support if needed.

Our job was the hardest. First and Third Platoon both had cover, we didn't. Fortunately, the jedi liked suicide missions and had graciously volunteered to lead my men. Of course, I would step in if he took things too far. He had no value of their lives or his own. When I was back in training, they explained that I had to make tough calls that meant casualties. I wasn't meant to see my troopers as living beings; they were tools of the Republic. It was to help make the tough calls easier, but my men grew on me.

"I'm warning you now, _jedi._ Any bad calls, I step in." The jedi, whom I assumed was a padawan, snapped his head towards me.

"Don't worry, Lieutenant. Despite clashing opinions, I need you and your men in one piece." He handed me a pair of electrobinoculars. The two of us were lying prone in position over the supply depot. We were organizing a means of attack. The other platoon leaders and Jayce had been up there, too, but they had left. Probably to let me and the jedi sort out our predicament from before.

"What're you thinkin' our course of action should be?"

"I'm thinking we run. Like hell. We get to that trench and its pretty much home free."

"I hope the river doesn't slow us down too much. They probably got those mortars zeroed in on it."

"I'm _sure_ they've got that river zeroed in. Tell your clones to be ready in ten, Lieutenant."

"Uh-huh." I left the jedi sitting there. I wasn't ready to warm up to him. After his stunt that day, I wasn't sure I'd ever warm up to him. Every other Jedi that I had served with was an honorable comrade. He was cocky, arrogant, and took too many risks. For the time being, I was to keep contact with the jedi to a bare minimum.

When I reached our temporary camp, my platoon was ready. I talked to my quad leaders. Lynch said that 2nd Squad was ready to go and Aran from 3rd was being treated for his wound.

"How you doing, Aran?" I asked. The medic from his squad, Cutter, was applying some Synthflesh and Bacta patches to his shoulder wound.

"As ready as we'll ever be- Ow!" Aran flinched at the pain. "Watch it, Cutter." He rubbed his arm. Cutter continued his job, ignoring his patient's complaints.

"And what about you, Kalen?" I asked the 4th Squad leader.

"Down a few, but we'll get the job done. We'll be there, Deacon. Just call if you need us."

A moment later, we were ordered to fall in line. Within a few moments, the cannons of the AT-OTs roared to life, pulverizing the unsuspecting battle droids. Three of the four of their laser cannons were destroyed, the other in no position to even fire on us.

"Second Platoon, let's move!" I roared, pointing my blaster rifle into the air. I charged towards the riverbank, my men and the jedi close behind me. The droids, still reeling from the walkers' cannons, were completely taken by surprise.

DC-15A in hand, I fired blindly into their lines, doing my best to avoid their own blaster fire. I grabbed a TAD off my kama and lobbed it towards the battle droids. Explosions reverberated all around me. The clankers' artillery had fixed on us and was trying to stall the assault. Unfortunately for them, they were being assaulted from the front as two pincers took them from the sides.

One artillery blast nearly knocked me off my feet. It went off right behind me, causing me to stumble. I was quickly picked up by one of my men. The artillery continued to rain down around us, but none seemed to hit anyone. But, I had spoken too soon. A second later, an explosion went off, incinerating three of my troopers in its blast. _Damn clankers._

I aimed downrange and fired at a B-2 that had lost its arm. Its head exploded and it knocked over the droid that was next to it. The riverbank was within twenty meters. Two more clones fell to blaster fire. I nearly took a hit to the shoulder but I had moved out of the way.

When I reached the river, an explosion went off in the center of it. It threw another clone to the left, falling on another trooper. Both didn't move. It was getting ugly fast. My blood was blowing and I was breathing rather heavily. Their artillery continued to resonate around me. And I glanced to my right, only to see a battle droid pop out from cover and shoot a clone square in the face. Time slowed down as watched him crumple to the ground.

I couldn't stop to help him. I had to keep going. That's when the jedi rushed ahead of all of us. He threw his lightsaber into the droids and leapt into the trench filled with droids. His movement was fluid as he performed what seemed like a strange kind of dance.

About ten seconds later, I reached the trench myself. I kicked a B-2 in the face, the droid stumbling backwards. I put my rifle to his face and blasted it on full auto. Clanker was scrap metal in a matter of seconds. I grabbed another TAD and tossed it down the trench. My remaining troopers reached the trench, firing into the surviving battle droids. They wanted blood. For our brothers. For the Republic. For revenge.

At some point, I completely lost it. My blaster pack needing a reload, I threw away my weapon and went bare-handed on a B-2. I tackled it to the ground and pried open its plating. I ripped out some wires, and it seemed to twitch violently. I punched, I kicked, I thrashed around. I wanted the droid to suffer. I ripped out more wires; I took a vibroblade on the ground and stabbed. A lot. It made all kinds of weird noises, some even sounded like ones of fear. But, I kept at it, tearing this droid apart was the most enjoyable thing I had ever done.

It took a while for someone to approach me. I had spaced out, forgetting about what was going on around me. When I came to, I had the whole platoon staring at me.

No one said a word.

We had taken the supply depot, salvaged what we could, and destroyed the rest. Then, we went to gather the dead. I followed the others to help my men gather our fallen brothers. I gave Buzzard back his vibroblade, which he was too scared to ask me for.

For Second Platoon, we had six dead, two wounded. One of the deceased was the trooper that I saw get shot in the face. I walked over to the body and paid my respects. I noticed the few troopers of 4th Squad huddled around the body. On the ground lay their Sergeant, Kalen. Fourth Squad only had four remaining soldiers. How weird is that?

I decided that it'd be best to move them to other squads. Kyp and Patch Job went to 2nd Squad while Mudbug and Bullfrog went to 3rd.

I also heard that our two wounded were Tucker and Nitro. Even when hurt, the two bickered over who had the cooler scars. I honestly just shook my head and let them argue.

So, as a tally, Second Platoon was already down to twenty-nine troopers. We started out with forty, but Felucia proved to be an eater of men. What an ugly planet.

So, that night, we reached the drop-off point. The place had seen some earlier combat. Everything was ablaze. The plants were all on fire, the bugs which had started to become a nuisance were leaving us alone. That was a relief. But, in the late night, we crept along the path, watching the vegetation around us burn. We had tried to put it out, but that just wasn't happening.

"I've got a bad feeling about this," Jolly said. Damn, he had real way with words.

Howler Company walked through the burning jungle that night. A mist came in as we marched. It was the scariest silence I had ever experienced. It was the scariest march I had ever experienced. If it weren't for the burning luminescence of the forest, it'd be pitch black. But, yet we carried, Howler Company marched into the dim lit night, deeper and deeper into hell itself.


	4. Chapter 4: It's an Omen

_**Thanium Sector/Felucia System/Felucia Surface/Firebase 42 (Outskirts)**_

_**Day 13/Month 3/19 BBY [Galactic Standard Calendar]**_

The comm was silent as we marched through the dense jungle. No droids had been spotted since the run-in the day before. It was kind of eerie as we trudged along into the unknown. Only the sound of the local wildlife was heard, Howler Company appeared separate to the landscape around us. The camouflaged Phase II armor did however allow us some sense of blending in.

The early morning was one of an enveloping darkness. It made things on Felucia a lot creepier, especially the noises from possible predators. Howler Company continued its march to the Republic Firebase, but we were very cautious. Buzzard even appeared slightly spooked by the noises. He nearly tripped over his own feet.

Soon, however, the sun rose, revealing a truly bizarre experience. It was so calming and peaceful that we forgot we were on Felucia. Its rays slowly grew over the horizon, creating an odd mist to descend upon the landscape. The sunrise was spectacular. For a few moments, we were on Naboo or Alderaan. For a few moments, things were good, things were relaxing.

Then, it happened.

They staggered towards us, one by one at first. Then, they came in larger numbers. They were worn and injured, dazedly wandering into our ranks. The clones that we had discovered were as far from clones as they could get. They were beaten and bruised, and certainly no shape to fight.

"Hey, hey you!" I hollered to one of the troopers. He didn't respond so I walked over and shook him. "Trooper, what unit is this?"

"484th, sir." He continued to limp towards the direction which Howler had come.

"Where are you going, trooper?" Jayce asked.

"Far away from there." He pointed to where we were headed, Firebase 42. The firebase had been set up in some tunnel system further ahead on the path. Apparently, it was very isolated. I figured that out just by how long it took us to get there.

"So is this the whole 484th Company?" Jayce quizzically asked the trooper.

"I'm sorry?"

"The company? Is this everyone?" There were maybe one hundred clones now standing around us. Many were certainly not in any fighting condition, most were unarmed anyway. Quite a few had rather large amounts of bandages.

What really freaked me out was the laugh which the clone emitted next. It chilled me down to the very bone. There was something very, very off about that laugh. "Company?" He chuckled before cleaning his shoulder patch, revealing a major insignia. "This is a whole battalion."

A battalion. 576 clones, not including command staff. The 484th Assault Battalion had been reduced to just over 100 men. Whatever hell the 484th had been in, it was about to swallow us up. Clones don't usually deal with fear, but that statement had sent a huge chill down my spine. I could honestly say that I was afraid and not be ashamed.

"Drexl, get on the comm…Order an evac…" I ordered with a faint whisper, watching as the major and the remnants of the 484th wander into the jungle.

I looked back to Buzzard then back to the 484th, then back again to Buzzard. He mouthed three words, "What the hell?"

Perhaps we should have turned back right then and there. Perhaps we should have followed our brothers. Save ourselves the trouble, save a couple of my brothers along the way, but there was no honor or glory in that. To run away with our tails between our legs. That's just not the way we work.

"Howler Company, fall out!" Captain Jayce ordered. "Second Platoon, take point." The order transitioned down the chain of command, and soon after, we were marching forward again.

There was some small chatter going on over comms about what had just occurred. I tried my best to put it out of my mind but the two pod brothers of my squad just would not shut up.

"I say we go back that way. We all know this place is screwed," Tucker stated.

Nitro, the other pod brother, decided to open his big mouth. "You know, for once, I actually agree with you."

That got our attention. We all looked at him with our helmets twisted to the side. Tucker and Nitro agree? Force knows that could never happen. Right?

"Clankers own this jungle and the place is probably overrun already." Tucker sure could make pessimism sound nice. The uplifting tone in his voice was creepy. "I wouldn't be surprised to find them wiped off the map when we get there." The Kaminoans really messed up on his batch.

Tucker continued to go on and on about how we were screwed and this and that. Nitro piped up a couple words every now and then. It just got to the point that I was tired of hearing how doomed we all were, so I punched Tucker in his wound.

He howled and yelped, but I didn't care. "No need to hit so hard, sir." He rubbed his arm and shoulder.

"Shut up then." I continued on.

I didn't make it much further. After only a few steps, I tripped and fell right into a puddle of mud. I swore to myself and cursed out anything that came to mind. I picked myself up to one knee to notice something.

"What the hell?" I muttered. I leaned down to notice a wire going along the entire path. It seemed to be the reason I tripped.

"Ugh…Deacon." Drexl called out.

"Not now, be quiet." I examined the wire to check if it was part of some booby-trap. No explosives were apparent.

"Sir."

"Quiet." I hushed the trooper up and cut the wire with my trench tool. "Alright, we can move on."

"Sir. Look up."

I did indeed look up. And what I saw surprised me. The cocking of weapons took me completely by surprise. I guess the laser sights trained on me and my clones got me, too. But, when camouflaged figures popped up out of nowhere behind, in front of, and next to my men, I nearly shit myself.

"Well shit," Buzzard said, dropping his vibroblade to the ground and raising his arms. I've got to admit, Buzz certainly has a way with words.


	5. Chapter 5: The Yard

_**Thanium Sector/Felucia System/Felucia Surface/Firebase 42**_

_**Day 13/Month 3/19 BBY [Galactic Standard Calendar]**_

The laser sights were trained directly on me and my men. The figures inched closer to us, their weapons never lowered. They came out of the jungle brush along our sides. Within a second, they had us completely surrounded.

"Not what I expected," Drexl said rather dryly.

"Well this sucks." Tropic dropped his DC-15S and raised his arms. Most of the platoon followed. I just laughed to myself and rested upon my weapon.

Then I heard a very similar voice, one that just so happens to come out of my own mouth.

"Helmets off," the soldier in front of me ordered.

"We're friendlies." I took off my own helmet and showed him my face. I hope he liked the scars.

Their weapons lowered and the one in front of me stepped closer and offered out his hand. I took it as I examined his armor. I think I was the only one to recognize it. Their leader, I assumed, was wearing camouflaged armor with a specific red kama and pauldron while the others had a discolored blue. Aside from those, these clones had armor adorned with various scars and burns. Whoever they were, to see their posture, one of utter confidence, was truly a sight to see. Whoever they were, these clones weren't normal.

"ARC troopers," Retro said as he and the rest of the sniper team walked over to me. Garbo and Duster following him, Retro walked through the platoon as well as the ARCs. He even had the courage to slap one on the shoulder. "The rest of Howler Company fell behind, sir. Your jedi friend is rather slow…for a jedi."

"I take it you're our reinforcements," the ARC leader said.

"That would be us," I said while shaking his hand, "Lieutenant CC-43/26-6597, Second Platoon, Howler Company. You can call me Deacon."

"And you can call me Sketch. Or captain if you feel ranks are necessary." Sketch told a few of his men to go locate the rest of Howler Company while I talked about the situation at this firebase we were supposed to protect.

"How's the situation? Last thing we heard was it was in danger of being overrun."

Sketch sighed. "The outer perimeter has been secured but the Separatists are banging on the door."

I cursed. "How bad is the body count?" He looked at me and I could see the remorse just through his body's motions, even with the helmet on. None of the other ARCs uttered a word. That was a sign.

"Too high," Sketch answered. That's all that needed to be said. That's all that I wanted to be said. So, we sat in silence for a few minutes. The ARCs and a couple of my clones watched the perimeter. Most of us just sat there. A couple of the younger clones seemed to watch the ARCs. ARCs were the best of the best, they accomplished what a whole company of us regulars couldn't. Needless to say, meeting your first ARC is quite the awe-striking experience.

"This isn't something new for you, is it?" Sketch asked. I looked at him. "I'm assuming you've dealt with us ARCs before."

I leaned back on the tree stump that I had been sitting on, resting my rifle next to me. However, as I was about to answer, Sketch's scouts and the rest of Howler Company caught up to us. By the fast pace of their movement, you could tell something wasn't good.

"Our jedi friend went on ahead," Jayce told me. "Firebase 42 is under attack."

"Second Platoon, on your feet!" I sprung up and grabbed my gear. My men followed my example, grabbed their gear and within two seconds, we were ready to fight. Sketch grabbed his own gear, adjusted his weapon, while his men did the same.

"Follow me, Howler," Sketch ordered. And so we did. Through the various plants and fungus of Felucia, we dashed forward. The sound of our boots was like a thundering herd. Our pace quickened as the sound of gunfire grew louder. I could distinctly hear the sounds of laser cannons. And they weren't too far away.

"Sir," one of the ARCs said, "you think we could get some air support?" He was running in synch with Sketch next to him. The clone had some detonators in a rucksack, which was slung over his shoulder.

"Not this time, Gearbox. This place is too much of a hotzone," Sketch replied. And just as he said that, a flaming LAAT flew right over our heads as it descended rapidly. The explosion a few seconds later shook the very ground below me.

As we exited out of the thick foliage of the jungle, we came to a large outcropping. We were on top of a hill; below us was a vast entanglement of trenches. In the trenches, I could see my fellow troopers in a desperate battle to control the frontline. Separatist forces were inching closer and closer to the trenches.

I got prone, as did the rest of us. I looked back to my platoon, their visors was all that I could see of their faces. "Snipers stay here. Everyone else, we're going down squad by squad. Stay close but don't give away your position."

Jayce crawled to me. "You'll go down with First Platoon. Third and Fourth will provide cover. Then, they'll go down to the right side of the hill, try to outflank the clankers."

"Always giving me the fun work, huh?"

"Because you're the one to get it done."

"I guess I am. First Squad, on me." So I leapt up and charged down the hill, nearly stumbling a few times as I went. Fortunately, the Separatists hadn't spotted my squad coming. Even if they did, we were still out of range until we nearly reached the bottom. My breath quickened as I descended the rather steep incline. The sound of sniper fire could be heard behind me.

"Just like the good old days. Right Sarge?" Drexl laughed in between breaths. I did, too.

"Except I'm not a sergeant anymore, Drexl." I lifted my blaster rifle; we had nearly reached the bottom of the hill.

And then there was fire.

I didn't hear the AAT as it spotted us, I didn't hear its primary weapon firing either. I hadn't seen it coming at all. One moment, I'm running. The next, I'm thrown down the rest of the hill by the explosion. It practically landed on me, too. Not to mention it carved a nice little crater. Needless to say, it fucked me up.

Feeling like shit, I stood up and stumbled a bit. Only to fall back down. It took a few tries, and few close calls from blaster fire, but I finally gained my footing. I stood up and began to look for Drexl.

"Drexl," I called as I tried to get my bearings straight. "Where are you?" I found him a few seconds later. "Let's go Drex-. " I had found Drexl alright.

I wish I hadn't.

Chills crept up my spine and a lump formed in my throat. There was Drexl, laid out on the ground like an anatomy experiment. He was in more pieces than I could hope to count. My mouth dried up, I couldn't speak. As quickly as I had regained my balance, it was gone again. I fell to the ground as it all sank in. Drexl, the clone to serve the longest under me, quite possibly the closest, brother in more ways than the rest, was dead. That was certainly not the way he deserved to go. It wasn't right.

But, I had to keep moving, there would be time to mourn later. I made my way to the trench, dodging blaster fire as I ran. I slid into the trench to take cover, headed further down the trench where I found my squad. Minus Drexl, we had no injuries on the descent down the hill.

"Jolly, get some fire downrange," I ordered. I primed a thermal detonator, lobbing the V-1 over the trench a second later.

"On it." Jolly let the Z-6 rotary cannon tear through the advancing line of battle droids, the weaker B-1s. Tucker and Nitro took a break from their usual bickering and were firing their Z-6s with Jolly. The trio was tearing through the Separatist line, relieving the overwhelmed troopers in our frontline trenches.

_"Deacon, it's Retro. You've got B-2s and AATs heading your way."_

"Copy that, Retro. You, Garbo, and Duster keep doing your job."

"Got it." I could hear a distinct crack that I recognized as his sniper.

"Buzzard, Tropic, on me!" I popped my head out and aimed my rifle at the nearest droid. Two blue blaster shots hit a B-1 in the chest, and it dropped. I fired on six more droids, all of them killed in a similar manner.

There was a laser cannon above me which fired on the AAT that had nearly killed me earlier. The armor of the AAT was holding up but I wasn't just about to let it go. Before long, Sergeant Lynch arrived with Second and Third Squad in tow.

"Third Squad's down a leader," he told me, "Aran got hit again. I've got my medic working on him now." That was really tough news.

"Who's in charge of his squad now?" I asked.

"Corporal Cutter stepped up."

"That'll have to do for now. Show me Aran."

"Over here." I followed him to a wider part of the trench, where a makeshift medical tent was set up. Inside, Corporal Patch Job from Second Squad and a private from Third Squad were both trying get Bacta patches on Aran's burns. He must have gotten lit up by a droid because he had burn marks from blaster shots on his legs, arms, and chest.

"Calm down, sir, let me do my job," Patch Job tried frantically to get the Bacta on him. But, Aran seemed to thrash at any degree of touch. He must have been in intense pain because he was screaming his head off.

The private did his best to hold Aran down, but he trashed too violently to be held down by one clone. So I stepped in and grabbed his arms. This really got him screaming.

"Lieutenant Deacon, sir," the private acknowledged me, I merely nodded. This certainly was not the place I wanted to get to know a clone that had recently fallen under my command.

"Sergeant Aran, let me apply the bacta." It took all of our strength to hold him down, but Patch Job got fed up and ended up sedating Aran. "That'll make things easier." He applied the patches to Aran, hooking the clone up to an IV, too. "Thanks for that, sir."

"Will he make it?" the private asked.

Patch Job sighed. "It's pretty bad burning on his arms and legs but nothing fatal. As long as he doesn't become infected, everything should be fine."

"That's good to hear," I replied. Apparently, the private wasn't relieved by the news.

"It's all my fault," he shook his head. "He got hit trying to get me behind cover."

I put my hand on his shoulder. "Don't blame yourself, private. He was just looking out for you."

"And he almost died because of it."

"And it's his job. It's mine, too. If I have to lay down my life for the Republic, or for any of you, I would do it without any hesitation. That's what leaders do. We look out for those below us and those that can't look out for themselves."

"And we look out for you, too, sir." The private saluted me, to which I returned.

"Now, why don't you keep an eye on your sergeant? Make sure he's comfortable."

"Is that an order, sir?"

"Yes, it is." I nodded to the private and Patch Job then left. Outside of the tent, Sketch, Gearbox, and the other ARCs had reached our position.

"Captain, do any of your men have explosives. My sniper team says we've got armor on the way."

Sketch hushed me. "Just look out and watch." I peeked over the trench, gazing upon the advancing AATs with lines of B-2s following behind them. I fired on the droids, taking out the legs of one and killing another. An instant later, I heard Gearbox flip a switch and the whole advancing line lit up brighter than Felucia's sun.

The explosion engulfed most, if not all, of the droids. Every tank the Separatists had was utterly destroyed. When the smoke cleared, the droids were very low on numbers and had no armor support.

I looked at Gearbox in astonishment. He simply chuckled and showed me an empty rucksack.

"In case of emergencies," he told me.

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't impressed. How'd you get up there to place the explosives anyway?"

"I don't give away all of my secrets." So I left it at that. Then I looked at Sketch.

"Any other tricks?" He shook his head.

"Nope, we just hold the line from here on out. If the clankers push us back, we fall back into the cave system." He pointed towards a cave entrance. There was a large, thick door that sealed off the cave. "Inside is the base's main hub. Barracks, food, HQ, showers, the works. And it's immense. Out here is what we call 'The Yard.' No one wants to be out in the Yard, but someone's gotta do it."

A trooper, one that had been here before we arrived, covered in mud ran over. He was panting and lacked a weapon. Even though he lacked a weapon and appeared exhausted, the trooper stood at attention and saluted myself and Sketch.

"At ease," Sketch and I said, at the same so it sounded like an echo.

"The men in the front trenches need ammo so if anyone has some to spare, it'd be appreciated."

"Howler Company was sent to help hold the line. We've brought men and ammo. We will help any way we can." The trooper appeared relieved, then he ran right back to the forward trench. A couple cheers and laughs could be heard.

"How long until their reinforcements arrive?" I asked. The droids would be back, and I knew it.

"I'm guessing we have between an hour and two before another assault. Better get bolstering the lines. I'll get my men to repair any equipment and set up booby-traps."

"And Howler will dig in and get ready for a fight." Sketch and I parted ways. I found my platoon, they were with the rest of the company. Jayce had been assigning various tasks to clones and had them helping other units fixing trenches and outer defenses.

My squad in particular was fixing a couple laser cannons that had been damaged by the earlier fighting. One had been sealed shut by the heat of the blast, so whoever was inside still was. A fusion cutter tore open the side of the turret, and a burnt corpse of a clone fell out. He was put in a body bag and laid down by our other fallen brothers.

"Hell of a way to go," Tropic said.

"Yeah," I agreed.

"Something wrong, sir?" Tropic turned his head towards mine, I looked away.

"That obvious?" He shook his head.

"Yes, sir." I watched the other clones handle our dead. The body bags were lined up in a flat area away from the trenches; preparations were made to get medical transports to pick them up. I hated to watch it.

Then they brought him over, piece by piece. He was handled with care, and I respected that. They placed his remains in a body bag next to the others. I could see the damage that he took from the explosion; the body was charred beyond recognition and two limbs had been blown clean off. Drexl's lifeless corpse, missing his right arm and leg, was sealed and left next to the rest of my brothers.

I mouthed my personal goodbyes, and suppressed my tears. Though Drexl shared the same face and voice as the rest of us, he was his own person. He had his own identity. At first, we may have been just numbers, but in time, we grew into something more. It took time to see it, but we gradually developed our own personas.

The Kaminoans didn't like it in us regulars, but the ARCs and the commandos gave us names. From there, we gained our identities. In appearance, we were the same. But as we fought and died together, we each gained our own personality in a way. The commanders of the 412th watched us in curiosity, unable to explain why we started to refer to ourselves with nicknames. After a while, the commanders simply ignored, as long as we were fighting the Separatists. They saw no real harm in it, so it continued.

It wasn't long after that the shrieks of artillery shells could be heard, and I was awoken from my daydreaming. Shouts and alarms could be heard as the shrieks got louder. Before long, the artillery impacted on the ground nearly on top of the trenches. But, instead of a normal explosion, gas was released. The screams of clones could be heard.

"Helmets on!" numerous clones shouted. It was a chemical attack. I put my helmet on and checked my air filtration system. The system gave an 'all clear' so I leapt into the nearest trench and assumed a position along the line.

The gas enveloped the trenches with an eerie quickness, which also shortened our vision. But, our helmets also carried noise amplifiers, so the hum of AAT engines could be heard. My blaster rifle was cocked, and I attempted to make out any enemy targets through the smoke from the chemical barrage.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, so I turned around. There was Gearbox and two of the other ARCs.

"Thought we'd lend a hand," one of the ARCs said.

"Be my guest." Gearbox and the other ARCs put their blasters along the line next to mine.

"Anyone see anything?" a clone further down the line asked.

"Nope."

"Nothing."

"Not yet."

I steadied my rifle, aiming out in front of the trench. I scanned through the smoke and got nothing, yet the tanks could be heard approaching. A second later, the mechanic marching could be heard along with the AATs.

"You got any thermal detonator, Lieutenant?" Gearbox asked me.

I handed him two. "Is this enough?"

"For now," he replied.

The artillery rained down on our positions once again. This time, it was a solid, endless barrage of blaster fire from heavy laser cannons. The clankers had set up some pretty nasty emplacements somewhere behind the massive plant foliage.

The explosions rocked the ground, the flames engulfed huge swaths of land. I don't think any trooper in the blast radius would even have time to scream. I merely just put my head down and hoped for the best. Gearbox and the other ARCs had ducked quicker than me by about a second.

"Nice reaction time," an ARC chuckled next to me, "for a regular. They call me Glitch by the way."

"Hell of a time to tell me, Glitch," I shouted over the explosions going off around us. As soon as I finished, an explosion went off directly in front of us in No Man's Land. A trooper was thrown off his feet and swept up in the ensuing blast.

"Looks like we won't have any other time anyway!" he replied with laughter in his voice.

"Forgive him, sir," the other ARC said, "We call him Glitch for a reason!"

"And who are you?"

"That's… 78," Gearbox answered, pausing in between explosions. "No nickname, his preference."

"At your service, sir." 78 saluted while holding his shotgun in the other.

"Good to hear, but what are we gonna do about these laser cannons?" I hoped they would have an idea.

"Nothing," Gearbox said.

"Sit here and wait," 78 replied.

_Great._

"I'd rather die fighting than hiding in this trench," I declared.

"No one said anything about dying," Glitch remarked. He looked up, I did, too. A flight of four LAATs flew over our heads, guns blazing. They fired their rockets on something behind the tree line, the four green pinpoint laser turrets carving into the Separatist forces. The artillery let up a second later, giving us an opportunity to fight back.

I popped out of the trench and fired burst after burst. Every clone on the line began to lay down as much blaster fire as possible. Our laser turrets began targeting the forward droid units that had come extremely close to our frontline. Fortunately, I was behind the first trench line. The second line was set a little further back, which gave us slightly more protection.

"They're coming back around!" I hollered, pointing to the four larties. They had saved our asses but the heavy anti-air defenses the clankers had was chewing them up. The first larty's wing was blown clean off, causing it to sink immediately towards the ground. The gunship landed on the advancing droids. The second larty managed to fire off the last of its rockets before being incinerated. The other two were both engulfed in flames but they kept firing on the enemy positions. The cockpit of the third larty soon after got hit. The gunship flew side-to-side before finally breaking off and landing somewhere in the jungle. The final gunship flew over our heads with its side doors wide open.

A figure dropped out of the troop hold as gunship flew past, one with a lightsaber. The blaster fire flew past him but never seemed to even glance.

_It can't be._

The blade ignited and he landed practically on top of my position. He looked at me with a sly smirk.

_It was._

"Come on, clone. Don't just sit and watch." Master Dukhein's padawan sprinted towards the frontline, deflecting the enemy fire as he went. I leapt out of the trench and sprinted behind him. Damn, he was fast. The jedi was practically at the first trench by the time I had hopped out of mine. I swerved all over No Man's Land just to avoid getting hit. The clankers were firing in every direction imaginable. But, I miraculously was only hit once by a glancing blow to my left shoulder.

It hurt but I kept sprinting forward. I would have to get a Bacta patch after the fighting stopped. Once I had reached the trench, I went prone to avoid any more blasters. After crawling into the trench, I popped out of cover and began firing in every direction possible. The clankers had practically overrun the trench. The jedi was busy attempting to hold off the droids, but he was steadily falling back to the first trench. And it wasn't just the weakling B-1s. We were dealing with the vastly superior B-2s. Their wrist blasters were firing almost as fast as we were.

Yet the clankers approached with unyielding numbers. For every single droid we killed, there was another to take its place. I had switched from burst fire to full auto; blue bolts from rifle tore through the B-2s at a steady speed. But, they continued marching forward, nearly on top of us at that point. The laser cannons tried desperately to stem the flow of the droids, but it was not enough. I stepped back from the front of the trench, firing as I went. The first of the B-2s landed inside the trench. A trooper close to me fell, only to get crushed underneath one of the droids. His corpse and the bodies of other casualties would lie in the mud of the trench.

"Fall back," I ordered, but the clones didn't need an order from a lieutenant to know what to do. Everyone that could get out of there jumped out of the trench and began to fall back towards the second line. Unfortunately, a B-2 swatted at me with its arm as I was climbing out. I was dealt a blow to the ribs that knocked the wind out of me.

And it hurt. A lot.

My whole right side ached from the hit, besides it knocking me to the ground, putting another layer of mud on my armor. I struggled to move, but I managed to crawl far enough away from the trench to give myself a fighting chance. Despite struggling to breathe, I sat up and fired at the droids, inching away slowly.

The droids quickly crushed any resistance in the first trench, and continued forward onto the second. Any clones in No Man's Land, including myself, had absolutely no cover. Our own troops were having trouble trying not to hit those that were retreating. I'm not certain, but given the circumstances, friendly fire seemed unavoidable.

I had made it about half way back to the second trench when a droid was killed and fell on my legs, which wasn't very pleasant. The clankers were still advancing in numbers, and I considered myself dead at that point.

So I closed my eyes as I fired my blaster in front of me.

Only to feel someone's hands on my shoulder, right on my wound from earlier. The stinging sensation finally seemed to kick in as I looked up right into the face of the jedi.

The jedi sliced his way through droids at a speed that even left me awestruck. The blade could barely be seen as he swung it in all different directions. And the droids just fell. Whole lines of droids were being sliced through.

And he was dragging me the whole time.

With our help, the Separatist advance was halted in its tracks. But it wasn't over yet. AATs were firing on us, but there accuracy was quite good enough to hit us. A couple close calls but nothing to finish us off.

The jedi threw me into the trench (rather violently) and I landed on another clone with a sharp, painful thud.

"Get him some Bacta," the jedi ordered before rushing back to combat the droids. The medic came over but I ushered him away. There would be time once the battle was over. But, he wasn't gonna have any of my games. He simply pushed me back down and I relented.

"Just relax for a second, trooper. You'll be up and able in a minute." He applied Bacta to my shoulder and checked me for other wounds. During the medic's exam, he checked my ribs, which brought immense pain. "I'm thinking you felt that."

_You think? _I just nodded.

"Looks like a small fracture in two ribs and some bruising," the medic determined, but I had enough of his touchy feely ways.

"I'll live." With that said I picked myself up and continued firing on the droids. Their forces were being held back and it seemed like they might even get pushed back. We had stemmed the tide, even if it had been only momentary.

I picked off a couple droids with my rifle before priming a thermal detonator. Another clone noticed this and primed his own. I nodded and we both lobbed ours over the top of the trench. The explosion engulfed a significant number of droids a few seconds later.

Once again, I heard the distinct hum of larties in the air. The pinpoint lasers' green beams streaked through the air, incinerating droid columns as they flew past. But the anti-air began firing on them just a second later. Two LAATs crashed atop the AATs that were providing support. But the others began to break through, slicing through the enemy like a scythe.

The resounding explosions of the anti-air emplacements brought about huge cheers, even as the droids continued pushing towards us.

The flames along the horizon seemed to engulf the entire jungle. Even as we fought into the night, the flames only grew bigger. And I never left that position. It was just too easy, cutting down droid after droid. It was nice to know the clankers were literally forced to climb over themselves to get to us. I was honestly getting kind of bored of killing them.

Kind of.

It took a while but their numbers began to dwindle. Slowly but surely, we began to push back. With our defenses on the brink of shattering from overuse and clones themselves falling to exhaustion, the clankers began to retreat. What started with them just stepping backwards to get out of our range (which didn't work), then turned into the droids turning 180 degrees and running as fast as their mechanical legs took them. I took pride in shooting out their legs.

"Forward!" someone yelled, and his body charged towards the retreating enemy. He was soon followed by many of our brothers. If the Separatists offered No Quarter, than neither would we.

I on the other hand, fell to the ground out of sheer exhaustion. I could hear the battle slowly drifting away from my position. The blaster fire eventually would die out, only to be blocked out by the moans of the wounded. We had won the battle, but at a cost. A hefty one at that. The corpses littered the ground in and out of the trench. But, I felt a little pride knowing there was a hell of a lot more clanker scrap metal than fallen brothers.

It wasn't long before someone dragged me out of the trench. The medics were doing what they could. With the anti-air knocked out, Republic medical frigates could land safely to evacuate severely wounded and take the dead. Meanwhile, more supplies and reinforcements came in to bulk up the defenses.

In the battle, I hadn't noticed but I had been hit two more times during the fighting. Nothing severe, all glancing blows. Captain Jayce called me "the luckiest of unlucky clones." I get hit but no R&R for me. I didn't care, not at that point. I just took a spot in a foxhole with a couple men from my platoon.

"Want some rations, Lieutenant?" the private offered. He took a sip of his own rations while handing me my own.

"Sure." I took off my helmet to sample whatever the trooper had made. It wasn't the worst I'd had, and it certainly hit the spot. That night, the Republic Fleet was hovering in orbit over our position. I had felt content in just watching them sitting there in the sky before passing out.

The flagship _Indomitable,_ a _Venator_-class Star Destroyer sat just above. The first thing I noticed were the large balls of flame and smoke trails emitting from the once-great warship. It had seen action in numerous battles, many where other ships met their end. Yet, here it was, aflame with at least several sections of the hull torn open. I could see inner layers of the decks. Multiple levels of the ship could be seen. Most of them had an ominous glow like that of embers. The bridge seemed like it had literally been cut cleanly off from the ship. Its engines seemed like they were flickering, turning off in sporadic intervals. At that point, it seemed dead in the water.

Another _Venator_ was in orbit nearby. I couldn't read its name because scarring from turbolaser fire had blacked it out. The ship's hangar seemed like it had been stocked with entire ship's munitions judging by the gaping hole going through the entire ship. One of its engines had been blown clean off.

Many other smaller ships were in various states of damage and disrepair. I saw the wreckage of an _Acclamator_ that appeared to have been split in half. Another _Venator_ drifted lifelessly through orbit. The fires from the burning ships didn't seem to be able to be put out by the fire crews. They were just too big. The pride of the Republic Navy sat in Felucia's orbit, burning and lifeless. It stood no chance of putting up any kind of fight. The fleet merely drifted with no real purpose. The ships' skeletons glowed a deep red in the Felucian night.

And we had hit the clankers by surprise.


	6. Chapter 6: Decisions

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: I apologize for not updating and taking forever to post the chapter. Hopefully, anyone reading it enjoys and feel free to review and leave advice. Thanks._

_**Thanium Sector/Felucia System/Felucia Surface/"The Yard"**_

_**Day 14/Month 3/19 BBY [Galactic Standard Calendar]**_

The artillery barrage began again the next day. Separatists pounded our defenses relentlessly. The very ground beneath us shook and rumbled as if an earthquake occurred directly beneath us. Our defenses were shattered as the explosions went off; some artillery shells went off in the trenches. I heard a whole squad was killed in one blast. But the three squads of my Second Platoon were holding up well.

One shell went off near me; two DF .9 laser batteries were disintegrated after it landed practically on top of them. It was a sudden death for them at least. Many had not died of their wounds, and their screaming wasn't going to quiet down any time soon. Medics did the best they could. Patch Job, my medic from Second Squad asked me to help him with one gravely injured trooper.

"Get me a surgical knife," he ordered, while tending to the trooper's missing arm. Meanwhile, I was trying to keep order between my three squads and tend to the wounded the best I could.

"Where is it?" I shouted over the ear-piercing booms of the artillery.

"My bag," he pointed to a dead trooper, "Next to him."

I ran to the bag while keeping my head down to avoid any sniper fire. "Come on, come on," I muttered to myself while sifting through his gear. It took a few moments but I finally located the knife. I put the bag over my shoulder and ran back to the wounded clone, only to have a dead trooper collapse on top of me. I fell to the ground with the body on top of me. I knew he was dead; the big gaping hole through the visor gave it away. _Snipers._ I pushed him off and kept on running, my head especially low to avoid being the sniper's next target. The trenches were packed with clones, alive and dead alike.

"Patch Job! I got it!" I handed him the knife and applied some bacta to two other troopers. Patch Job did the nasty part of amputating what was left of the trooper's arm and legs. He had been sedated but the clone was aware of what was happening.

"You're gonna make it," Patch Job assured him, not even looking him in the eyes. Can't blame him, because precision could very well mean the difference between life and death.

"It's alright, trooper," I said. The wounded trooper, now helmetless, turned his head to me. He was breathing heavily and was sweating profusely. He tried to say something but it was inaudible. I put my hand on his shoulder in hopes to calm him. Meanwhile, Patch Job put a mark on the trooper's forehead. One letter.

F. _Fatality._

Patch Job and some other medics put the trooper on a stretcher and they carried him off. Patch Job and I watched for a split second before moving on to the next trooper.

"Too much blood loss. No way he'd make it." Patch Job seemed to say it more to himself than me.

"No one blames you. You're doing the best with what you got."

"I know that, sir." He handed out some bacta to those that could help the wounded. "Doesn't mean that I can't criticize myself."

"Nothing wrong with that."

We tended to a couple dozen more clones. We saved most of them, but not all. We just made them comfortable. I'm glad that some are fortunate enough to die quickly and painlessly. Not all of them were that lucky.

One sergeant tried handing me his blaster, but that's hard to do with no arms. He looked at me, the pain visible on his scorched face.

"Do it," he said, gesturing to the blaster. "Do it."

But, I couldn't. I couldn't kill my brother. That wasn't something I could live with doing. I shook my head.

"Do it. Please"

Two shots rang out. I turned to my side to see Patch Job holstering his weapon. I looked back at the clone as his body slumped over into the mud of the trench.

"Sometimes, you gotta make tough decisions, sir."

"Believe me, I know."

"And they only get tougher, sir."

And as fast as the shelling of our positions began, it stopped. For a few seconds, it was quiet as we all adjusted to the silence. Then, the screams and moans returned to normal. Patch Job and I looked at one another and a sort of relief sank in.

"Go check on the platoon, Deacon," Patch Job ordered, "I've got it from here."

I ran back to part of the trench where my men had been hunkering down for the entire morning.

"Deacon, sir." The platoon looked to me and saluted, I returned it.

"Any casualties?" I asked. Sergeant Lynch from Second Squad spoke up.

"Third Squad's got two wounded, three dead. My squad's got three wounded. First Squad lost one man."

"Garbo, sir," Retro said, his head hanging low. "Sniper got him." Poor Garbo had lost a battle with another sniper. "Duster scored some revenge though."

Garbo, Alixx, Devon, and Schizo. All dead. All under my command. I didn't even know three of them too well. The wounded were evacuated off the line as well. So, Kaz, Kyp, Nino, Garand, and Uno had all been taken off the line. I was down to nineteen men and we weren't even in combat for a week. Third Squad was down a leader, and it was down to four clones. Second Squad, led by Lynch was down to six.

Forty-one clones. That's how many we started with. And we were halved after only a few engagements. I won't lie; I questioned my leadership in that very instant and many moments after. I had failed them all. I had let down my platoon. My Company. My battalion. Hell, I had let the entire 412th down.

I slumped down into the mud of the trench, realization of my failures setting in. I wanted out. I wanted to give up my command. It should have gone to someone else. I wasn't ready for it. For that, nearly half of my men were dead.

"Any orders, sir?" a private asked.

I looked up at him, unclear on what to do. For a long time I had taken orders. Life was simple: it was problem someone higher up would solve. But, not so much anymore. Like it or not, I was in charge and I had to give the orders. I had to make the calls. The tough decisions were mine to make. I had to keep my head together or the nineteen of us would end up with Garbo or Drexl or the clone begging to die.

"Sir, any orders?" he asked again.


End file.
